Caleb Wilde
(218 comments, 980 posts)
Posts by Caleb Wilde
Death and Real Estate: Selling and Buying Haunted Houses
In certain parts of the country (specifically Pennsylvania, California, Virginia and New Orleans), there a higher percentage of people who claim they live in houses with ghostly residents. In some parts of the country, it’s actually a selling point to claim that your house is “NOT HAUNTED!”
And in states like California, it’s actually required by law to disclose if there’s “others” living in a residence.
Some people though, feel like it’s their duty to disclose. Here’s a brief snippet from Zillow’s blog:
Greg Leeson didn’t want to call his house haunted, so in his listing, he went for a nonchalant tone:
“Slightly haunted. Nothing serious, though,” he wrote.
“When I was writing it, I had been thinking about it, and I went back and forth,” Leeson explained. “The way I worded it — I was trying to keep it light. I have been reading online, and people saying you are supposed to disclose it. I don’t know the laws here, but thought better safe than sorry.”
Turns out Leeson didn’t technically need to disclose a haunting — even a slight one. Pennsylvania real estate law requires sellers to disclose all material defects they are aware of, says real estate agent and former lawyer Frank L. DeFazio of the Center City Team in Philadelphia.
“Knowledge of psychological impairments such as deaths, murders and haunted houses are not required [material] disclosures under Pennsylvania law,” he explained. “How do you disclose a haunting? Even if court says yes it is a material defect, you have to prove it actually exists. How [do you] prove it? Call Ghostbusters?”
Owner Leeson isn’t even entirely sure that his 1901 home is haunted; he says he believes more in a scientific explanation for things. However, he does admit there are some oddities that have occurred in the Dunmore, PA Victorian, currently listed for $144,000.
He described occasionally hearing voices in his daughter’s room when she was an infant.
“It sounded like there was a person in the room with her talking. We’d go in, and she was just sitting there. But she normally cried constantly,” he said. “Doors slam shut, but it’s an old house. It’s not that often. I used to have roommates, and my wife’s friend swears the house is possessed. I have other friends that come over and say it’s the most calming house they’ve been in.”
Even if Leeson isn’t convinced the home is haunted, describing it as so has been good publicity. He decided to list the home as for sale by owner. His plan was to always try listing it formally with an agent if it didn’t sell, but with the amount of interest the home has garnered, he likely won’t need to go that route.
“I’ve gotten a lot of offers,” he said. “I guess any publicity is good publicity. I think it’s helping in the long run. It’s a nice house. If it’s getting it out there and a buyer likes the house, they probably won’t be dissuaded.”
Via Zillow
And then there’s some real estate companies that attempt to capitalize on hauntings:
If you think haunted houses are impossible to sell, then you’re in for the fright of your life.
“There are buyers out there that think it’s cool to own a home that may have ghosts,” real estate agent Cindi Hagley told ABC News’ “20/20.”
Based in California, Hagley runs Past Life Homes, specializing in the selling of so-called “stigmatized properties,” and that includes haunted houses.
“Right now we are in a seller’s market in almost all of northern California,” Hagley said. “You can have a dead body swinging from the chandelier, and I’m still going to have ten offers on the phone.”
Hagley said plenty of houses for sale come with supposed tenants of the supernatural type, who have allegedly lived there for hundreds of years. In some states including California, realtors are required by law to tell buyers if a home purportedly has ghostly inhabitants.
Even after telling potential buyers that the house is haunted, Hagley said many are still interested.
“Some don’t care. Some expect a huge discount,” said Hagley.
A Realtor.com survey found that 62 percent of Americans would consider buying a haunted house, while 35 percent think they’ve lived in a haunted house.
Via ABC NEWS
So, do you live in a haunted house? And, if you could, would you buy a haunted house?
When You Can No Longer Visit the Grave: A Story of Child Loss
Today’s guest post is written by Janie Garner
When my son was killed at 17 years old, I knew I would visit his grave a few times a week for the rest of my life. This was an obligation. Not visiting him would be tantamount to neglect. These were my son’s bones, all that was left of him on the earth. Someone had to visit and remember, and it was my responsibility.
I haven’t been in almost a year. He died almost 4 years ago.
The first several times I went, there was no headstone yet. I am a Navy veteran and Alex, as my minor child, was entitled to be buried in a national cemetery. I went and looked at the fresh dirt with orange plastic netting on it, to prevent the ground from eroding. I looked at the printed card and metal stake. It was winter. I sat or sprawled on the grave for hours at a time, until my hands turned blue with cold. We had an unusually snowy winter. I sobbed and tried to bargain with God to take me instead. As you can see, that didn’t work out for me. People came over and asked me if they could call someone, and if I was ok. I must have been quite a spectacle if strangers were that concerned about a woman crying over a fresh grave.
I wanted to say: No, I am not ok. You are a well-meaning but stupid human. Get away from me. Can’t you see I am trying to mourn my kid, or freeze myself to death? Instead, I said “Thank you, I am fine “.
Then it became spring and I showed up several times a week to watch the plugs of grass spread across the hole. The netting was taken away at some point. The stone was set, and I spent hours tracing his name with my fingers, and punching myself in the leg as hard as I could to distract myself from the psychic agony I felt.
The first time I saw his name (and mine) on that headstone, I screamed and fell to my knees. It was so much more permanent than the card and the stake. The US Government had provided a monument that said he was dead forever. It was lined up with thousands of stones exactly like it. There was an empty space next to his grave, for my husband Paul, an Army veteran. I would be buried on top of my baby. My name and pertinent dates will be carved into the reverse of his stone. Our various atoms will perhaps eventually mingle again, as when I carried his body inside of mine.
His bones are in the company of heroes. The national cemetery will be perfectly maintained for as long as the US Government exists. There are literally hundreds of deer, completely unafraid of humans. They walk among the monuments peacefully. They also eat the flower arrangements. Alex would enjoy that.
Six months passed. I found myself dreading each visit. They spread further and further apart. I became completely hysterical and inconsolable during and after each visit. I was guilty for not going as often as i should. I became mildly suicidal every single time i visited. There was no winning this one.
My Father-in-law was diagnosed with terminal cancer when Alex had been dead for 10 months. He was dead a month later. He mentioned that it was too bad that he couldn’t be buried next to Alex, his much-loved Grandson. I am the nurse in the family, so i took care of him. He died at home, with us.
Naturally, when he died we gave him my husband’s spot. Paul will be buried with his father, a decorated Purple Heart and Bronze Star Vietnam Veteran. I will be buried with our son. We have created a family plot in the middle of a National Cemetery.
Alex’s grave was disturbed when they buried his grandfather. This caused me to be unable to leave my bed for weeks. The grass took some time to grow back, and it became my habit to lay in the dirt and/or mud between them, with one hand on each grave. This winter wasn’t as snowy, but it was wet.
If I was mildly suicidal before, now I was in great danger of ending my own life. I started only going on holidays, birthdays, and death days. This made me less suicidal, but more guilty.
I felt like I was failing to properly honor my son. I still do, but I cannot take the emotional tornado caused by seeing my baby’s name on a headstone twice a week. I was dying inside a little more each time I visited. I have the florist deliver flowers to the graves occasionally. Other family members visit sometimes, and I know the cemetery is cared for. I can do nothing else. I have nothing left to give.
I feel like the custom of visiting graves is barbaric, at least for grieving parents. There is nothing under that stone but a decomposing body. In this case, the body of the child who was NEVER supposed to die before me. The body that died and completely invalidated my life, The body I didn’t protect well enough.
The body I failed.
Because that’s really what the problem is. No matter how many times you tell a grieving parent that their child’s death was not their fault, they will never believe you. Somehow, in their own minds, they are to blame. My son was killed when he was hit by a 9 ton tow truck, operated by a distracted driver. I was 40 miles away. I blame myself.
So visit if it comforts you. Do not visit if it tortures you. Your kid doesn’t care. Either the Atheists are right and he knows nothing about it, or he is in Heaven and way too busy partying it up with God to notice worldly stuff.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Why Normal People Enter Death Care: 20 Short Stories of Inspiration
I asked this question to the Confessions of a Funeral Director community:
If you’re in (or going to be in) the funeral trade, what reason(s), experience(s) and/or event(s) inspired you to take the plunge?
These 20 very short stories help dispel the idea that funeral directors are innately money-hungry creepy people. Creepy people who stuffed their first piece of road kill at the age of 10. People who were born and wrapped in a black baby blanket and put in a coffin shaped crib with hearses and trocars dangling from our crib carousels.
Yes, death makes us different but most of us entered death care as normal, good-hearted people who want to make a living while making a difference.
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A Horrible Mix-up: When the Wrong Body is Put in the Casket
I just stumbled onto this story that dates back to 2009.
From NBC Philadelphia:
Janie Holsey told a funeral home employee that the man in the casket was not her husband.
“That’s how they look when they die,” a funeral home employee told the grieving widow, according to the Daily News.
“How they look when they die” is a completely different person in the case of 80-year-old Kenneth “Tex” Roberts at the James L. Hawkins Funeral Home at 1640 Federal St. Monday, reports the Daily News’ Kitty Caparella.
Despite Roberts’ wife’s disturbing proclamation, the funeral service went on the next day, with more than 200 mourners passing by a casket containing an unknown man dressed in Robert’s suit and clothes.
“I touched him,” Roberts’ daughter Rhonda Wearing told the Daily News. “We kissed him. Some of us thought it was him.”
But the story gets worse.
When the funeral director finally admitted to the family that there was a “mix-up,” right before the funeral was about to start, more havoc followed:
Relatives cried and children were hysterical. A 19-year-old had a seizure and a woman had an asthma attack. Both were brought to the hospital.
The man in Roberts’ casket appeared older than Roberts and relatives were told that man had been killed, said Wearing. Roberts’ body had been in a casket at the Francis Funeral Home in West Philadelphia, which is run by the same funeral director, 6ABC reported.
The horror didn’t stop there:
When the funeral employees finally located and brought the real Roberts, his legs were hanging out of a tilted casket when the hearse door was opened.
Wearing told the Daily News that the funeral employees must have driven so fast, hitting bumps, so that the casket opened.
“It was unspeakable,” she said.
By Teresa Masterson
